The Consulting Wizard of Baker Street
by consulting-witch-with-a-tardis
Summary: One boring day in 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes and all of his friends receive letters from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry **PLEASE NOTE** This is my first fanfic, so please keep that in mind!
1. Unexpected Mail

I. Unexpected Mail

The door of 221B Baker Street closed with a bang, startling Sherlock Holmes from his peaceful slumber on the sofa. Sherlock lazily lolled his head over to see who had entered the flat. Before he even cracked his eyes open he could tell it was John, due to his slight limp. Sherlock grumbled to himself and pulled his nightgown over him like a cloak.

John entered the flat moments later, carrying the mail in his left hand. "Afternoon." He said, addressing the disheveled-looking detective.

"Afternoon?" Sherlock inquired, "That can't be right, it was just morning."

"Yes and now it's two in the afternoon. I would've been here earlier but I decided to go do my errands instead."

"Errands?" asked Sherlock. "What errands do you need to do?" He pushed himself upright into a seated position on the sofa, bringing his legs up against him.

"Well you see Sherlock, when you get married you can't just rely on the left over bits in the fridge next to the latest experiment." John said, sifting through Sherlock's mail.

"I'm sure Mary would be interested in the state of decay of a liver exposed to a high concentration of Phosphoric acid." Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow. John thought about this for a moment and opened his mouth to say something but stopped, realizing that it was not what he wanted to be talking about all day. He instead focussed the attention back to the mail, as something peculiar had arrived that day.

"Hey Sherlock, there's a letter here addressed to ' Holmes, The Sofa Against the Right Wall, 221B Baker Street.' Have you gone and made yourself another enemy? It seems you're getting threats every day now."

"Enemies," he scoffed "They're not enemies, they're sensitive people who ask for the truth and then can't handle what they're asking for."

"Well to be fair, you give them a lot more than what they ask for, Sherlock. Mostly you just insult them, which is frankly a good way to create some pretty bad relations." John said, seating himself in his chair across from Sherlock's vacated one.

Sherlock grumbled and lazily extended his arm for the mysterious letter. John sighed and took it over to him, tossing it onto his lap and disregarding his extended hand. Sherlock shifted his body so that he was lying across the sofa again as he examined the letter. He turned it over in his hands a few times, carefully inspecting the writing and the large red wax seal on the back.

"It's from the London area," he said, flipping the letter over. "The seal is unfamiliar though. It has a crest of some sort on it; probably some dated family emblem." John reclined in his chair, used to hearing Sherlock's deductions. He knew better than to speak, or he would be ordered to get up again to leave the room.

Sherlock pried the wax seal from the envelope, carefully removing the pieces of parchment inside. The paper used wasn't the cheap kind found at a stationery shop; whoever sent the letter had some money to spend. Sherlock scanned the contents of the letter, and John saw his eyebrow rise occasionally. With a look of boredom, he tossed the pages onto the coffee table.

"It's some stupid scam; some Wizarding boarding school. How do these people even get this address? I thought I told you to handle that problem."

"I handled that problem months ago, Sherlock. Let me see that though, I want to have a look." John once again got out of the chair and picked up the letter from the table. Sherlock watched with amusement as John scanned the letter with just as much confusion as he had.

"See," He said, taking the letter back from John when he finished. "Rubbish. Throw it in the bin, will you?" John started to walk towards the trash bin when his phone began to ring.

"Mary." he said, pushing the answer button. "Hello dear…..uh yea he did actually...yea, right. Seal and all. ….Hmm, this is weird, isn't it? Probably just some kids with a prank. … Well alright, I'll be home in a bit. .. Love you too..Yea I'll tell him for you, bye.

"It was Mary. Turns out she got the same letter you did, but it was addressed to her. Pretty extensive for a prank, huh?"

Sherlock sighed "The lengths people will go to find amusement." At that moment, a small tawny owl swooped through the narrowly open window and landed carefully on John's chair. The two men noticed that tied around its right foot was a note, the very same as Sherlock's. They exchanged skeptical glances before John approached the owl. It held out its foot and waited patiently as he detached the note. John reached up to pet the owl's head, but it nicked him with its beak.

Sherlock chuckled. "Get the thing a treat or something, John." he said, pointing to the kitchen. After rummaging through what Sherlock considered to be a kitchen, John managed to find some biscuits shoved in the back of one of the cupboards. He brought them back to the chair where the owl sat, and offered the small bird one. It snatched the biscuit from John's fingertips immediately, looking content.

John picked the letter up from the seat of his chair, opening it carefully. He, like Sherlock, scanned the letter while making peculiar faces as he read along. He glanced up at Sherlock with his eyebrows knitted together. "Well," he said. "Who do you think it is?"

Sherlock plopped down into his chair across from John's, steepling his fingers under his chin. He pondered the idea for a moment, seeming to be unable to make a suitable conclusion. "I, I don't know actually." he said. "Children wouldn't put this much effort and time into a stupid prank. My so called 'enemies' wouldn't trifle with such stupidity. Only Moriarty would think to do such a thing, though he's bored with the storybook themes."

Silence fell over the flat for a while, besides the occasional twitter from the owl asking for another biscuit. Sherlock didn't bother asking John on his thoughts; they wouldn't get them anywhere. The silence was interrupted by the sound of a vibrating phone on the coffee table. Sherlock gazed at the table lazily, wishing the thing would shut up so he could return to his mind palace. John got up and answered the phone; he appeared utterly puzzled and hung up the phone a bit later after conversing with whoever had called Sherlock.

John returned with the phone in his hand. "That was Greg," he said. "He said that everyone; Donovan, Anderson and himself, had gotten letter exactly like the ones we got. What the hell is going on here Sherlock?"

"If everyone would just shut up for half a second I might be able to figure this out!" Sherlock fumed. He pushed himself out of his chair and took a few long strides over to the sofa, where he flopped down on his backside. Sherlock closed his eyes and John could tell it was time for him to leave. Before he got out the door, he heard Sherlock calling out after him.

"John, wait! I need to go to the station to speak with the other's to get a better idea of what's going on."

"Alright," John said, stepping back into the flat. "Well I'll wait here while you get dressed."

"No, I'm ready to leave now." Sherlock said, grabbing his phone from the table as he headed out of the flat. "I trust that you drove here in your own car, not a cab." Before John could answer, Sherlock had already started down the stairs. John followed him moments later with some of Sherlock's clothes, just in case Sherlock Holmes forgot to put on his pants again.


	2. The Hidden Passage

II. The Hidden Passage of King's Cross Station

When John arrived at the police station he was directed to Greg Lestrade's office. Inside, Sally Donovan, Phillip Anderson and inspector Lestrade were standing around Greg's office discussing three identical letters on the desk in the center of the room. Sherlock was lounging leisurely in a black chair facing the desk, looking puzzled yet bored out of his mind.

John cleared his throat as he entered the room. "Ah, yes, hello everyone. Good to see you all again. So, any ideas about what's going on?" He was answered by three blank stares and an eye roll from Sherlock.

"Yes, John. We've collectively concluded the sender of these letter is indeed the tooth fairy. Business is bad these days and she needs more teeth to keep her family together."

Greg coughed awkwardly. "Um, no John, we still have no idea. We did just get a call from Molly though. She got one too. We were about to leave for St. Bart's so Sherlock could analyze the materials of the letters."

"Oh, alright." John said, disgruntled over feeling out of the loop. "Sherlock, are you taking your own cab again or are you going to ride with me this time?" he asked.

"Oh don't be offended, John. I needed to think, and other people thinking distracts me." John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's ridiculousness and turned to leave the office. When they got into the car, John turned to the passenger seat where Sherlock sat. "Do you have any idea where these letters are coming from, if not who from?" he asked.

"I will soon, as soon as we get to the lab." Sherlock answered.

...

The five people entered the lab, where Molly Hooper was poking and prodding at a brain she had acquired at the morgue downstairs. After a few moments she looked up and noticed the others. "Oh, hello!" she said, pushing the brain away from her.

"What's this one's name then?" Sherlock asked, glancing at the brain.

"I've decided to call him Dan. He looks like a Dan, right?" Molly took the bowl holding the brain and tilted it towards them so they could get a better look.

"Uh, yeah, sure." John said hurriedly. "Can we see you letter, please? Sherlock was going to analyze it so we could get an idea of where the things are coming from."

"Oh, sure, of course. It's just over here." They followed her to the desk area where Sherlock did most of his examinations. Without hesitation, Sherlock picked up the letter and started to work.

"Alright everyone, let's clear out and let the man do his magic." Lestrade said addressing everyone. "Molly, maybe you can help us come up with some ideas about what could possible be happening." Molly nodded and followed them out of the lab.

Sherlock spent quite a bit of time analyzing the materials of the letter and came to the conclusion that the materials were local, but uncommon. He looked into every possibility of any clue or allusion, but could find none. He decided to read the letter from what he considered to be a "simplistic" standpoint, like any simpleminded person would read it.

Sherlock entered a small break-room near the lab where the others were waiting, talking and sipping coffee. Lestrade stood up and addressed Sherlock. "You've got it all sorted out then?" Sherlock gave a curt nod.

"Yes," he said. "We're meeting at King's Cross Station at 9 AM on Saturday." Greg's mouth hung agape a bit, as he struggled to find words.

"King's Cross Station?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "You've read the letter, haven't you? It says to meet at platform 9 ¾ on Saturday morning. It's the only way we'll find out who it is we're dealing with and what they want."

Lestrade pondered this thought for a moment before sitting down at the table again. Everyone was looking between the two men on the opposite ends of the room. Greg nodded to himself. "Okay; King's Cross, Saturday at 9. Everyone got that?" He looked around the room and was met with nods from everyone.

"Um, Greg," Donovan started. "How can we be sure this operation is safe? We could be putting out lives in danger by going."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes in impatience. "Donovan, I know you think I'm a 'dangerous psychopath,' but could you please get your head out of your arse? Do you really think I would put my life and John's in danger as well?"

No one said anything until John spoke up. "Well, that solves that. See you lot Saturday, then." He pushed himself up from the chair and walked to the door where Sherlock stood.

"You two do make quite a cute couple though." Donovan said sarcastically. John sighed and turned on his heel to leave the hospital. Sherlock turned to follow suit, but was stopped by Phillip Anderson.

"Sherlock, do we need anything for Saturday?"he asked.

Sherlock turned to face him. "Just a brain if you can find a functioning one, Anderson." And with that, he left the building.

...

Saturday morning at nine o'clock, the group of 6 met on the inside of King's Cross Station. None of them had anything more than what was needed for a standard day. Donovan had insisted on bringing her gun, in case anything happened. Sherlock told her to keep it it of site unless absolutely necessary.

The anomalous group headed down the platforms until they reached platform number 9. Greg looked precariously towards number 10. "I don't see a platform 9 ¾, Sherlock." Donovan said matter-of-factly.

"Maybe it's a secret platform, or perhaps a code for something." Molly said.

"I don't think so, Molly. Sherlock would have picked up on a code. He would never be able to accept missing something so important." John said.

Lestrade spun around, looking for an indication of there being something there for them. "It's nine o'clock, there's no one here. I could have been spending my time working on a case of actual importance, but instead I'm here figuring out the mystery of the gullible sociopath!" he said, kicking the wall between platforms 9 and 10.

Suddenly, Lestrade's foot disappeared into the wall. Everyone looked the the wall in astonishment. "Greg, your foot… it's...gone." Donovan said.

"Yes, thank you for that thrilling observation, Donovan." Sherlock said. "Now let's figure out where it went!" He strode towards Lestrade and shoved him into the wall. With that, Greg Lestrade had disappeared.

"What the hell just happened?!" John exclaimed. "Sherlock, what the hell did you just do?" Sherlock ignored him and simply hopped to the other side of the wall. He jumped back over and shrugged his shoulders.

"No detective inspector on the other side. Who wants to disappear next? I vote Anderson." Before he could protest, Sherlock pushed Anderson against the wall violently, into which he disappeared.

Donovan stood, horrified at what she had seen. "Don't you come near me Sherlock, or I will hurt you." She produced the gun from her coat pocket, aiming it at Sherlock.

Sherlock signed. "Come on Sally, put that thing away and take a trip into the wall. You want to know what's going on so badly, so go find out." Donovan pointed the gun down and John carefully took it from her hands, placing it in his own coat.

Donovan approached the wall tentatively, looking back to the rest of the others. Sherlock edged her along with his fingers impatiently. She took a deep breath and disappeared as she took one walking stride into the wall.

Molly gave Sherlock a terrified look. Without saying anything, she closed her eyes and and ran headlong into the wall. She vanished with a blip, leaving Sherlock and John alone staring at the wall.

"Together then?" John asked. "It would seem fit since everyone already thinks we're a couple." he said rolling his eyes.

Sherlock chuckled and took a long stride to the wall. John, taking a few more steps, stood beside him. The two men looked at each other, shook hands, and walked into Platform 9 ¾.


	3. The Hogwarts Express

III. The Hogwarts Express

Sherlock and John appeared on the other side of the platform wall, dumbfounded by what they saw. A giant red and black train stood before them, smoke billowing from its front end. The train stretched for quite a length, certainly longer than the local ones in London. Sherlock examined his surroundings, while John continued to gape in shock.

Molly was standing not too far from them, looking just as lost as they were. She spotted John and Sherlock and called out to them. "John! Sherlock! I'm over here!" She waved in their direction when they turned to see her.

"Ah, Molly. Did you see where the others went?" Sherlock asked her, looking around the hidden train station.

"Yeah, they went into the train to see what's going on here." She pointed to an open compartment. They followed her guidance and stepped into the open compartment of the train.

Inside, they walked down the aisle-way to find someone who could offer any kind of an explanation to them. As they passed one of the compartments, someone shouted at them. "Oi! In here!" They turned to see Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson seated in the compartment.

The compartment seated four, with just enough room to squeeze two more into the walking space. Sherlock seated himself next to Lestrade, and Molly and John stood on the ends of the packed compartment. "Well," John started, "anything?" he asked, looking at Lestrade.

"There were a few attendants who were expecting us. They were surprised that we aren't carrying any baggage, as if we're staying at this 'Hogwarts' place." As he finished his sentence, an attendant passed by the compartment.

"Oh good, you're all here now. The train will be departing shortly." The man walked briskly down the aisle and entered a doorway, which they assumed was where the conductor was. The train started moving then; it lurched forward before smoothly gaining speed as it left the station.

Sherlock stood up from his seat and moved towards the door which Molly had been standing against. "Well, we're going to find out own compartment now. John," he said, looking back at John to follow him. Molly awkwardly pushed herself into the corner to allow Sherlock and John to exit the compartment. She then took the empty seat next the Lestrade that Sherlock had briefly occupied.

Sherlock walked down the empty aisle with John trailing behind him. They were a considerable distance away from the others before Sherlock entered another compartment. Upon entering, he leisurely laid across the seats on the right hand side of the compartment. John sat across from him near the window. He gazed out of it, as if he were trying to get an idea of where they were going.

The ride was like that for a while. Sherlock would lay across the seats with his eyes closed, hands steepled beneath his chin. John continued to gaze out of the window, constantly wondering when all of this would come together. Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. Mary.

John snapped out of his daydreaming and frantically began searching for his phone. He found it in the pocket of his jeans, under his wallet. He cursed to himself as he saw that he had no signal of the train after all. "Shit," he thought to himself, "Great going John. Yea, really great. You board a train going who-knows-where, and you forget to tell your wife. I really hope this trip doesn't take long." He sighed, settling back against the seat again.

In the other compartment, Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson and Molly sat and chatted. They talked about work and how things were getting on at Scotland Yard. Molly told stories about strange things she had found while working in the morgue at St. Bart's. When they got onto the subject of Sherlock, Donovan sighed and sat back against the seat as she looked out of the window.

After several long hours, the train began to slow down. It stopped with a long screech and a lurch. Sherlock jolted upright, startled from what seemed to be a peaceful slumber. John yawned, as he had been napping as well. He had quit trying to engage Sherlock in conversation hours ago as he knew it was a waste of time to try.

Lestrade tapped in the window of the compartment as the other four passed by. Molly waited patiently for Sherlock and John to come out, being sweet and courteous as always. The group exited the train and looked around them. It was nightfall, and the only thing they could see was a giant castle illuminated in the distance.


	4. The Old Talking Hat

IV. The Old Talking Hat

Between the group and the castle, there was a lake. It was quite a distance between their location and the other side of the lake, but they soon found multiple wooden boats tied up against the shore. John and Sherlock took one of the boats, the others claimed another.

Lestrade and Donovan manned their small ship, sitting near the bow while Molly and Anderson sat at the back. For their group, the ride was an easy one. They were all mostly quiet, besides making short comments about various things. Molly hoped that the castle had food, because she was starting to feel peckish after only eating a small breakfast that morning. The other three were more concerned with solving the case already after going to such ridiculous measures to do so.

In the other boat, John and Sherlock were getting on as they usually did. Sherlock was lounging across the bench on the right hand side of the boat, resting his head on the stern. Meanwhile, John had taken the job of rowing both of them single handedly to the castle.

John sighed in annoyance. "Sherlock, do you mind helping me row?"

Sherlock lifted his head lazily and looked at John with an expression of boredom on his face. "That's alright, you seem to be doing well on your own." He rested his head once more on the back of the boat.

"I was being polite, Sherlock. Now, will you get off your bloody lazy ass and help me?" He threw one of the paddles at Sherlock, which hit him in the shin. Sherlock snapped upwards and looked at John as if he'd been insulted.

"Don't throw that thing at me. Who knows what's in this lake water? I don't want it getting on my coat; you know how much I like my coat."

"Yea, fine, sorry about the coat." John rolled his eyes. "The 'I'm so mysterious because I'm Sherlock Holmes' coat. Unbelieveable." he said under his breath.

Sherlock smirked and tossed the paddle back to John. "Come on John, let's get a move on. We can't honestly let Lestrade and Donovan beat us there." he said, returning to his position on the bench.

"It'd be a lot easier to beat them if there was more than one person rowing." John said dryly, holding out the paddle once again.

Sherlock waved him off. "Really, John. You were stationed in Afghanistan, were you not? I'm sure they taught you something about rowing boats somewhere."

John sighed; he was so done with Sherlock's shit. "For the last goddamn time; I was a doctor, Sherlock. What about that can you not put in your mind palace?"

"I just assumed that everyone got basic training, and boating may have been a useful skill for some reason." Sherlock said.

John let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll keep rowing by myself. Just don't get all pissed off and go find the nearest couch to pout on when we don't beat the others."

Sherlock grumbled to himself and closed his eyes.

"Yea, just like that." said John.

After a long while of rowing, both parties made it to the other side of the lake. To Sherlock's annoyance, they were not the first to arrive. When they all finished tying the boats to the dock, they turned around to look at the castle. It loomed above them, standing over one hundred feet high. There were many steeples and spires at varying heights, some seeming to touch the low hanging Fall clouds. The road leading to the entrance was illuminated by the lights from inside the fortress. Someone was obviously expecting them.

They walked along the path to the ominous so-called school. They soon reached a set of massive double doors. Lestrade approached the doors and was dwarfed by their enormity. As he lifted his hand to knock on one of them, they both slowly opened inwards.

The group exchanged furtive glances at each other before entering. Upon entrance they looked to see who had opened the doors for them, and found no such person. They then started to look at their surroundings, everyone in awe.

The interior of the castle was exquisite, like nothing any of them had ever seen before. In front of them, an immense staircase led to a second floor landing, where many other staircases branched from it. On their left hand side another set of smaller doors were open, letting a glowing pool of light escape from its chamber. From this room, an older- looking woman emerged.

She wore a long emerald robe with a pointed hat of the same color. She walked briskly towards them, having an air of command and power. "Ah, there you are at last. I assumed you would have been here sooner, knowing your reputation for greatness where you're from." the woman said tartly. No one spoke, but rather exchanged glances again. The woman sighed. "Come along. It's time you all get sorted."

The six people followed the woman in green while wondering what the bloody hell "sorted" could mean. The woman spoke up again. "This is the Great Hall." she announced as they entered the room from which she had come to greet them.

The room held four long vertically arranged tables, stretching from one end of the hall to the other. At the other side of the hall there was a single horizontally placed table opposite them. In between the two pairs of tables on either side of the room stood a grand pedestal.

Above them, banners hung above each of the tables. At the far left, there hung a golden banner with a badger as its crest. The table next to it sat under banners of royal blue, with an eagle. The next table sat under a crimson banner with a fearsome lion adorning it. Lastly, at the far right the banners were an emerald green, with a coiled snake as a mascot of sorts so it seemed.

The woman in green appeared once more from what appeared to be a cupboard, with a wooden stool in one hand and an aged, ratty old hat in the other. She put the stool in front of the pedestal and placed the at on top of it. "The others have been wandering the corridors while they waited for your arrival. They will return soon, and then the sorting may begin."

"Wait," John said. "The others?"


	5. The Sorting

V. The Sorting

The group seated themselves at the third table from the left hand wall. They were all still utterly at loss for ideas about what was going on; even Sherlock had no clue. They wondered who the "others" were, and if they should be alarmed.

John sat with his head in his hands. "Oh no, this is so bad. This is so utterly, bloody bad." Sherlock, who was sitting beside him, sighed.

"What are you on about then?" he asked. John looked up from the table and glared at him.

"What am I on about? Mary! For God's sake Sherlock, I just left my wife and came to some unknown place! My phone is dead and I don't know if I'll ever talk to my wife again. That's what I'm on about."

Sherlock sighed again. "Mary's fine. She's perfectly capable without you checking in every few minutes."

John bit his lip and nodded his head slightly in annoyance. "Yea, I know Mary's capable without me, but that's not the point. The point is that I left my pregnant wife without her knowledge, and she deserves more respect than that. Stop acting like I'm weak for caring about someone when you have no caring ability at all! 'Caring is not an advantage.' Bullshit."

"You know he's right though. I am capable of taking care of myself." John flipped around to his other side to see none other than Mary standing beside him. His mouth gaped open and his brow furrowed. "You're also right though," she said "you should have told me before leaving like that."

John closed his mouth and gathered his words, still in shock. "Yea, I know. I thought we were just going to King's Cross to meet someone and this whole thing happened. About that, how are you even here right now? You weren't on the train."

By this point the others had noticed Mary's presence and were all in just as much shock as John. Probably less shock though, since John had gotten used to Mary having her fair share of secrets. They all watched her silently, waiting for an explanation.

Mary sighed. "This all would have been explained if you would have read the memory stick. Well, actually it would have made no bloody sense up until now, but you would understand. Part of my file has information on my life living as a pureblood witch."

The others gave her strange looks like she was mental. "A witch." John repeated slowly. "A what witch?"

"Pureblood." Mary continued. "It means that both of my parents are wizards, and they both come from an extensive line of wizardry. I grew up in the wizarding world and studied here as a kid. Then I ran into some trouble and changed my life and my story, and I moved to London where I met you."

John looked at Mary and was completely dumbfounded, not sure of what to say to her explanation. "Wizardry. Right, okay. That explains everything. A hidden world right under our noses. Magic, brilliant."

Mary sighed. "How do you think you made it through that wall then?" She looked at the others, who exchanged incredulous looks with one another. "I knew what those letters were when that sweet little owl arrived at our house.

"I had nothing to do with it though. I haven't been in contact with anyone from this world in years. I knew somehow you all would make it here. I'll go shopping with you tomorrow and I'll help with your studies."

"Thanks Mary, that's much appreciated," Lestrade spoke up. "but this is a school for kids, right? So why us, and why now?" Before Mary could answer, the woman in green answered him.

"Hogwarts caters to the education of all age groups and is a home to all who seek knowledge of the arts of witchcraft and wizardry. We have closed the school for this year to cater to those in your world who we see fit to know of the existence of magic and the coexistence of our two worlds. Our enrolled students are spending this year at our other neighboring schools. There is great potential in all of you, if you choose to embrace it. , as she is now called, will assist you in your navigation of this world. She is a powerful witch, and you should heed her word."

Mary nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Professor." she said.

The woman nodded and then made a tight lipped look of utter annoyance. "Now, where are those other three?" She wondered aloud, walking briskly towards the hall's large double doors. Before she reached the doorway though, two people, both dressed in black, entered the room.

"Sorry we're late. We just wanted to have a little stroll around." Jim Moriarty stood arm in arm with Irene Adler. The others gaped as the two made their way towards them.

"Good to see you again, darling." Irene said as she approached Sherlock, lightly brushing his cheek with the back of her manicured hand. He gave her a cold, stony stare, while not acknowledging her touch.

Everyone else's attention was focussed on Moriarty. No one could speak until Sherlock said bluntly "You were dead. You shot straight through your skull."

Jim laughed. "Funny thing, magic. It really comes in handy when you need it to. You ordinary Muggles are so adorable." he drawled. "It was a simple spell, first year stuff. I'll teach it to you if you'll hold your dogs off." he glanced over at Lestrade and Donovan. They glared at him in return.

He was about to continue, when they heard a cold voice from the other end of the Great Hall. "Good to see you've made it, brother dear." Sherlock froze for a moment before slumping down in exasperation. He turned his head to dully stare at his brother, who was making his way down the aisle swinging his umbrella.

"Mycroft, what the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, unamused by his brother's appearance. Mycroft sighed and smirked at his younger brother.

"Oh, brother mine. You should know that I'm involved in worldly affairs. All worldly affairs. If something occurs where the wizarding world needs our help, we can assist them while still maintaining their secrecy. I was sent here to keep an eye on you. Mummy and Daddy think I'm taking a 'well earned vacation,' as if I'd ever actually do that."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Mycroft gave him a contemptuous look and sat down at the table to the left of theirs. Molly started to invite him to sit with them, but Sherlock stopped her, saying "Just leave him. He enjoys sitting alone; he thinks it makes him appear more formidable."

Moriarty and Irene had seated themselves at the far right hand table, under the green banners. It somehow seemed to suit them, sitting there. Moriarty winked at Sherlock and mouthed the words "Not dead" to him.

This whole time, the woman in the emerald robes had been sitting patiently at the center seat at the horizontally turned table. She rose from her seat with grace, and moved to the stool where the raggedy hat still sat. "Now that those introductions are over, we may finally start the sorting. When I call your name, make your way to the stool so that the hat may place you in your house. Your house will be like your family, and you will treat them as such.

"The houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Each house was founded by great leaders; Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. For those brave, daring and chivalrous, Gryffindor is where your heart lies. For those who value knowledge and learning, Ravenclaw is where your mind thrives. For the loyal and tolerant, Hufflepuff is where you stand. Lastly, for those who crave power and cunning ambition, Slytherin shall be where you find what you seek."

With that, she produced a list written on parchment. She narrowed her eyes to read the writing before calling out "Adler, Irene." Irene stood from her seat next to Moriarty and made her way to the stool. She sat down next to the professor, who placed the old hat on her dark haired head.

Everyone else watched in fascination as the hat began to move, slowly straightening itself. It opened a flap which turned out to be its mouth, and spoke. "Ah, yes. Irene Adler. It's fairly obvious where to put you. Slytherin will no doubt be the best place for you, with your cunning abilities." The professor removed the hat from her head, and she reclaimed her seat next to Moriarty.

"Anderson, Philip." the list was read from again. Anderson nervously got up from the Gryffindor table and tripped on his way to the stool. He sat down and the hat pondered for a moment before shouting

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Donovan, Sally." the woman read. Donovan rose from the bench and straightened her back as she made her way to the stool. The hat made a few humming noises before yelling out

"RAVENCLAW!"

The professor read from the list again. "Holmes, Mycroft." Mycroft rose from his seat at the Ravenclaw table where Donovan had seated herself. He sighed and leisurely made his way to the hat.

It mused from the top of head. "Hmm, yes, a good brain here. Oh and so powerful, too. This is an easy one. You obviously belong in Slytherin."

Mycroft raised his eyes in amusement and joined Irene and Moriarty. Sherlock addressed the others. "Sitting with the villains; I always knew my brother was up to no good."

"Holmes, Sherlock." The woman in green said. Sherlock exchanged a look with John as if to say "Here we go." He walked to the stool and sat down casually.

On the outside, Sherlock looked as calm and collected as he wanted to appear. On the inside, all he was thinking was "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. I can't be in Slytherin."

"Not Slytherin, eh?" asked the hat, chuckling to itself. "You don't want to be with your older brother. Well, after seeing into your mind I can tell it's not where you belong anyway. Knowledge is power to you. Your true place lies in Ravenclaw." It said assertion. Sherlock gave a smirking half smile and sat at the Ravenclaw table, making sure to keep an even distance from Donovan.

"Hooper, Molly." Molly looked startled and terrified when her name was called. She gulped and walked to the talking old hat.

"Calm down child, I'm not going to eat you." The hat said. "A caring nature is in you. You value loyalty seriously. You'll find that Hufflepuff will be a better suit than you think." When Molly rose, legs shaking, Anderson beckoned her over to the Hufflepuff table with a welcoming smile.

"Lestrade, Greg." Greg got up and walked to the hat. On his way up to the front of the room, he heard Sherlock murmur "Greg… Greg. Or was it Gavin that she said? Geoff? John knows…"

"This one is easy, too." the hat proclaimed. "Daring, brave, and fights in the name of justice. The place for you is Gryffindor, most definitely." Lestrade sat next to John, who patted him on the back.

"Moriarty, Jim" was called next. He sauntered up the the stool, settling down with a smug look. Before the hat touched his slicked back hair, it yelled "SLYTHERIN IF THERE EVER WAS ONE!"

Moriarty scoffed. "I've already been sorted, years ago. I just wanted to see if I still had it in me." He raised his eyebrows at Sherlock and sat down next to Irene again.

"Watson, John." the green robed woman said, finally at the end of the list. John walked to the stool, looking both unfazed and terrified of where the hat would place him. The hat was placed on his head, where it began to mumble to itself.

"Not like your wife at all, are you? Almost the complete opposite, I would say." Sherlock gave John his classic "I'm always right about these things" look. Mary didn't meet his gaze. "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed loudly.

John sighed with relief, but was also disappointed to not be in the same house as Sherlock. Before he sat down, Mary stood up. "Guess I should move to my table now, the feast will be starting now. I was sorted as a student here, my robes still fit from when I was seventeen." Before John could ask what house she was in, he watched her move to the Slytherin table. She sat on the left hand side of the bench directly back to back with John. She turned and gave him a downcast smile.

Sherlock moved from the Gryffindor table and took Mary's seat in front of John. "I'm sitting here and they can't make me move. I can't stand it next to Donovan; she keeps giving me dirty looks. At least you give them to me for a good reason." John laughed and shook his head.

Suddenly, food appeared on the tables in front of them. Roast beef, chicken, sausages, pork and lamb chops, steak and potatoes ran down the course of the long table. Everyone ate their fill, and the platters refilled themselves with heaping amounts of food when it was running low. Later into the meal, the course platters were replaced with extraordinary desserts. Pies, cakes, ice creams, pudding, tarts, and chocolates were displayed in tons. Sherlock watched as Mycroft slyly snuck a piece of pie onto his plate.

After the feast, their attention was directed back to the front of the room. The woman in the emerald robes introduced herself as Professor Minerva McGonagall. She was the headmistress of the school and oversaw all that went on there. She told Mary to help the others to their dorms. They were all to go to a place called Diagon Alley to get their supplies the next day.

Before departing to the Ravenclaw common room, Sherlock walked with John and Mary to the Gryffindor common room. He kissed Mary goodnight and patted Sherlock on the back. Everyone then went to bed, knowing they were to have a very confusing learning experience the next day.


	6. The Morning After

VI. The Morning After

The next morning Sherlock awoke groggily to the sound of a hooting owl perched on the windowsill. He lifted his head and languidly inspected his surroundings. Memories of the night before popped into his mind successively. He grunted and rolled over onto his other side.

His eyes shot open as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He wrangled himself from the bed to see the owl in his place. It clicked its beak at him and flew up to the coat rack near the wall. Sherlock grumbled to himself and padded to the washroom lazily.

The washroom was simple, made up of large gray brick and stone with porcelain basins below long mirrors lining the left hand wall. Opposite the basins was a row of four small stalls, their old wooden doors hanging ajar. Sherlock made his way to a basin, splashing his face with cold water. He looked at himself in the mirror through slitted eyes of exhaustion. He sighed and ruffled his hair, deciding to have a hot shower.

...

Sally Donovan rose bright and early as the sun came up. She spent a liberal amount of time inspecting her surroundings. She wondered when she would get her clothes, as the ones from the previous day had gotten wrinkled badly. A small owl watched her from the window quietly, and she paid no regard to it. After her shower she decided to check her email and in irritation she found that her phone had died.

...

John Watson woke with a start that morning. Slivers of sunlight shone through gaps in the curtains. He inhaled deeply and stretched his arms above his head. An owl sat perched on the end of his bedpost, swiveling its head to look at him.

John slid out of bed and walked to the window, parting the curtains. Bright daylight streamed into the dormitory, shedding morning light on the red and gold banners which hung from the walls. Greg Lestrade cringed, squinting his eyes and shielding the light with his hands. "What bloody time is it?" he slurred drowsily.

Upon looking at his surroundings, Greg appeared startled for a moment before settling back down after remembering everything. "Do you know when breakfast is?" he asked John. John shook his head and walked towards the washroom. "Well there better be donuts." he grumbled to himself.

...

Philip Anderson woke up to a gray horned owl hooting at him softly from the end of his bed. He smiled softly as his eyes adjusted to the warm sunlight. His mind also adjusted as he was reminded of all of the recent happenings. He reached to pet the bird, which bent its head towards him expectantly. "Good morning to you too, silly bird. You couldn't let me have five more minutes?"

...

Molly Hooper was sleeping peacefully on the edge of her four poster bed. Her red hair was sprawled across her pillow, and her left leg hung lazily over the mattress. She had remained like this for quite a while until a small brown barn owl's low hoot startled her, sending her crashing to the floor. She groaned, massaging her shoulder which had endured the impact of the fall.

Molly yawned and stood up, looking for the owl. Her eyes found it above her on the top of one of the high bedposts. She crossed her arms and looked at the owl crossly. "What'd you go and do that for?" she asked it. In response the owl cocked its head and hooted again.

...

Mycroft Holmes had been awake since four in the morning, the time when he always awoke. He hadn't slept well, he rarely did. Mycroft was bothered with the events at hand. He had been a part of a secretive council which involved members from both the wizarding world and the regular, as they would say "muggle", world. The two coincided well, and the wizarding world remained a secret. Now though, that was all changing.

He peered at the bed opposite him in distaste. James Moriarty should be in any prison, preferably Azkaban. Mycroft had been instructed to let matters be with his multiple offenses against the law for now. As soon as he got the chance though, the egotistical weasel would be behind bars.

Jim woke with a sly smile. "I know I'm gorgeous, but peeping while I'm sleeping is quite rude, wouldn't you say?" he said, eyes still shut. He fluidly sat up, opening his cold brown eyes. He smirked at Mycroft. "Good morning queen Holmes. Lighten up a bit, will you? We can't be roommates with you being so stiff all the time."

"Why would I want to have anything to do with you? Please, enlighten me." Mycroft said sharply.

Jim's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Mr. Holmes, ever so hostile. I must say I fancy your brother, he's more fun. He enjoys playing the game." He paced between the beds.

"My brother has always liked playing games," he said tartly. "He needs to grow up and take responsibility, not play with his prey." Mycroft turned his attention to his gold wristwatch.

Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "I'm going to take a wash, and maybe when I get out you'll have gotten out of your nasty mood." he said as he closed the washroom door.

...

Mary Watson sat in the middle of her bed, hugging her knees. Her cotton night clothes hung loosely on her, the pants pooling around her feet. She sifted through her memories, putting back together the pieces of her past which she had been covering so well. Her memories of the castle flooded through her. She had slept in this bed her first year at Hogwarts, amongst her closest childhood friends.

When she had first been sorted into Slytherin, Mary had been terrified. She had heard rumours of only the evil and unloving being in Slytherin house. As she grew though, she learned otherwise. Slytherin was the best house for her cunning intellect, paired with her lack of empathy at times.

Her only fear was that John would give up on her. He had endured her through her confession to being an assassin, but how could she explain this? He would be understanding of being sworn to secrecy about another world, but what of her past? She knew she couldn't keep avoiding the truth, especially not now with everyone at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding world.

Diagonally from her bed, Irene Adler lay propped against pillows in her lace underwear. Her dress lay across the bed beside her. She studied Mary's troubled face. "I see deep thoughts in you eyes." she said softly. Mary looked up at her and smirked.

"I tend to do that sometimes, get lost in my head." she said with a sigh.

"We all do, love." Irene said. "Lost in the world of endless fantasies let loose by our imaginations. Although you look troubled. Tell me, what is the matter with you?" She sprawled herself onto her stomach near the end of the bed and propped her head up with her intertwined fingers, swinging her legs back and forth.

"Well you see, I grew up in this world, not in the Muggle world. I'll just say that I had my reasons for leaving, and they were messy and complicated."

Irene smiled devilishly. "Oh darling," she purred. "tell me all about it."


End file.
